by Gilmour, SJB
When he deemed it ready, he turned off the heat and brought the wok over to my bench, setting it down on a metal rack to keep it off my shiny surface. Lastly, he tossed in a whole red chilli he’d sliced up, and a handful of fresh coriander leaves and gave it another quick stir. The reds, greens, oranges, yellows and browns made the dish just magic to look at, but I would have been incredibly nervous about tasting it.
Sally showed no such inhibition. She heaped the noodles into her bowl and began shovelling them into her mouth. I touched her mind briefly, just to get a taste. Let me tell you it was amazing. The chilli was far hotter than anything I would normally have eaten, but she seemed quite used to it. She ate it, believing firmly that a good dose of chilli, garlic and ginger was just what she needed with a cold knocking her for a six.
The meat was amazingly tender. It had more the consistency of chicken thigh meat than steak, but the flavour of gamy beef. The ginger and garlic too, which I had thought excessive while Mitch was preparing the mix, barely even registered more than a mild tingle compared to the wallop of the chilli. The mushrooms had the consistency of squishy, soft calamari and tasted much like they smelled — sort of nutty. Not my thing at all.
After a few mouthfuls, Sally’s now clear nose was running like a tap and her eyes were watering. Still, she ate her fill, going through several handfuls of tissues in the process. When she was done, she simply sat, watching Mitch make sure he cleaned up everything and keep her supplied with a fresh cup of his “special tea”. Blinking back tears of gratitude at the immediate and completely selfless way he took over her usual job so she could sit and relax while ill, just made her want to cry. Thank fuck I can blame the chilli and the cold. Otherwise, he’d think I’m a bloody sook.
‘I’m lighting the fire, okay?’ Mitch didn’t really hang around for an answer. He simply raced out to the fireplace in the living room and set it going. Then I gather he went and did the same with the fireplace in the master bedroom. A few moments later, he returned to the kitchen wearing his large hi-visibility raincoat he used when riding his bike in the rain.
‘Just going out for more wood, Princess. Back in a moment.’
Sally nodded and watched him leave. Dutifully, she drank the rest of her tea then left the cup in the sink and pulled out a few tubs of frozen minestrone. Soup. I need soup for a cold. Then she sat back down and watched out the window at the darkening sky. Rain had begun to fall and was being blown against the panes of glass, making a soft pattering sound.
I was so engrossed watching her sit there and suffer her cold that for several minutes, I didn’t notice the passage of time while Mitch was gone. Then I began to worry. I felt awful, since I’d already given the poor girl’s mind a workout earlier in the day, but I had to do it. Shouldn’t Mitch be back by now?
Sally glanced at the clock. She wasn’t sure when he’d left, but it was at least fifteen minutes ago. Startled, she raced to the front door. As she opened it, I heard her give an exclamation and then I heard some trampling feet and a clatter of firewood as Mitch dropped all he could carry under one arm onto he floor. His other hand was busy holding the phone to his ear.
‘It’s the cops,’ he hissed to Sally as he came into the hall. Then back into the phone, ‘So you have no idea whose those prints are?’ Colour rose in his face as his temper began to rise.
Seeing Mitch so suddenly angry disturbed Sally more than it would normally have done had she not just come down with a cold. She left me and went to stack the firewood.
‘Look,’ James said after a pause on the other end of the line, ‘would you like me to send Office Preeta around? All we know is that the prints on the step and the prints in the fuse-box could be from the same person, but we can’t tell. They were from different fingers.’
Mitch was almost shaking with fury. ‘So what you’re telling me is that you could have two killers out there or just one, but you don’t even know the answer to that. Don’t bother sending Nayani over now. I’ll expect you’ll drop by in the morning. We’ll talk more then.’ Then he hung up and went to Sally who had now come back into me, pale and worried.
He put one strong arm around her and smiled, holding her close to him.
‘C’mon, Salls. Let’s go to bed. It’ll all seem fine in the morning.’
Two killers? Two? I couldn’t believe that. All night I brooded, staring at the ghostly smear of my blood on the floor.
Chapter Eight
The next few weeks went along quite smoothly for Sally and Mitch. Their lives seemed to be getting back into order. Sally got over her cold. Their love-life had hit a brief bump in the road for a few days, but judging by the noises from the bedroom and the snippets of thought I gleaned from them as they came and went from me, it settled back on track nicely. By the first week of August, they were almost back to being the perfect happy couple again.
With a lot of help from Kelly, Mitch had completed some jobs in the yard, when he hadn’t been catching up on his writing. The fruit trees were all now well mulched, sprayed and fertilised. In the back yard, I knew from the images in their minds, they had built up four enormous raised garden patches beside the poly-tunnel. The soil, all rich red volcanic dirt, they mixed with two full dump-trucks full of sandy loam from Gembrook Hardware and Stockfeed.
By the eleventh of August, the second Saturday of the month, their project was nearly finished. The redwood railway sleepers were laid and gravel for paths between the beds spread between them. All they had to do was rake in the loam to mix and turn with the natural dirt God provided. A final load of manure was delivered which was also to be turned into the soil.
As she’d done every day in these school holidays, Kelly arrived early, ready for work, but hours before that, Sally got started on preparing lunch. It was a good thing Kelly wasn’t any more punctual, or Mitch and Sally would have been very, very embarrassed.
Sally’s meal today was her prized roast chicken. Now, I’d never paid much attention to my roasts, other than a bit of garlic and rosemary and a good smothering of olive oil. But, as with her lamb roast, she didn’t do it by halves. For one thing, she roasted two chickens. Just as easy to roast two as it one, and cold roast chook never lasts long in my fridge.
I agreed with her, and she made sense, but I could never have brought myself to do so. Even in an enormous oven such as the one I’d had installed in the kitchen that I was to become. Sally had planned the meal as always, and rose early. Before it was light, she’d gone out to her herb garden in the poly-tunnel out back, and retrieved several handfuls of herbs.
She had at least a good packed cup’s worth each of sage and thyme, several sprigs of rosemary, a proper bunch of parsley and several bay leaves. All these, she washed and set to dry while she retrieved a large jar of semi-dried tomatoes in oil from my fridge and three eggs. Then she took three entire bulbs of garlic from my larder and half a loaf of now-stale ciabatta bread. When she went for nuclear-powered Blendtec blender, I began to fret a little.
The clock on my wall said it was only just after six. She glanced at it briefly. If I’m up, he can get up. Then she broke off a few cup-sized chunks of the bread into the blender jug and then shoved in the sage, most of the thyme and most of the parsley. In went the eggs and a slurp of olive oil. Lastly, she peeled two of the three bulbs of garlic and popped the lovely pungent cloves in and sealed the lid.
The noise that thing made when it went off was horrendous. The result however, looked like some of the best stuffing I’d ever seen. Or so I thought. Sally hadn’t finished yet. She emptied the mix into one of her favourite Pyrex mixing bowls, and added a generous shake of dried oregano and about half a jar’s worth of loosely chopped semi-dried tomatoes. Then she added about a tablespoon each of salt and pepper and gave it all a stir.
Mitch came in just as she was spooning the stuffing into the second chicken. That wonderful brown hair of his had been getting longer and was now falling over his eyes constantly. He brushed it back with his fingers, grinning at
her.
‘Didn’t you get enough noise last night?’
Sally gave her head an imperious little shake and kept at her task while Mitch got the coffee going. When the chickens were properly stuffed, Sally stripped the leaves from the lower ends of four of her rosemary sprigs and used them to suture the cavities shut. With that done, she began preparing her baking tray.
The remaining bulb of garlic was thumped into pieces and added in willy-nilly. Then Sally fetched two tomatoes, two carrots, a few sticks of celery, a couple of brown onions and two lemons. She diced the vegetables and sliced the lemons into thin wedges and tossed them all in the bottom of the pan and stirred them about a bit. Last of all went the remaining rosemary and parsley. Over this spread of stock vegetables and lemon wedges, she set two metal wire roasting baskets.
I was fixated, watching her do this. Mitch was too. He sat at my bench, cradling his coffee and watching his busy little wife with a look that was part awe, part lust. Sally noticed his expression and rolled her eyes.
‘You’re not going to get any action while you’ve got a coffee and I haven’t.’
Mitch almost shot out of his seat in his enthusiasm.
Sally went back to putting the finishing touches on her chickens. She coated them both liberally in the deep red oil from the jar of semi-dried tomatoes and set them in the baskets. Then, having washed her hands of the oil, rubbed the last sprigs of thyme between her palms over the chickens, showering the birds with green flecks of the herb. A quick sprinkle of more salt and pepper added the finishing touch. She covered the tray with its lid and set it in my oven at one hundred and sixty degrees. I glanced at the clock. The whole preparation took nearly an hour, but I could have sworn it had only been minutes.
Yet again, I found myself wondering if Mitch was psychic. He sat Sally down with a coffee in front of her and then stood behind her and began kneading her shoulders and neck. I may not have been the gourmet cook Sally is, but I knew how tired her back and shoulders would be feeling after any long period of cooking. Those strong fingers of his pressed into her tight muscles, easing along them with just the right amount of pressure.
Sally shut her eyes and leaned back into the seat rest.
‘Mmm, I’ll give you half an hour to stop that,’ she all but moaned.
Mitch grinned. In his mind, I saw the current of his passionate thoughts for his wife rising steadily. He was already beginning to stiffen against the inside of his jeans. Sally wasn’t thinking anything of the kind.
I can’t believe how stressed I must be if this is feeling so good, she thought. She could feel tension just oozing out of her. Mitch pressed his thumbs deep into her trapezoids, working them over each other, moving outward to her shoulders, stopping at her deltoids. He did this repeatedly on each side of her back, starting at the bottom of that large flat muscle, and edging his way up between her shoulder-blades to the base of her neck.
‘Stop,’ she muttered as he edged over her bra strap. A quick lift of her shirt and a snap and wriggle later and her bra fell to the floor. She reached up to her left shoulder and tapped it with one finger. ‘C’mon, mister fingers. Work. Work.’
Mitch grinned and resumed massaging. As he worked his hands up the back of her neck to the base of her skull, he leaned forward a little. His fingers were beginning to feel the strain of the work now, which had a softening effect in his loins. That didn’t last long however as he looked down over her shoulder and admired those pert breasts.
Standing closer to her now, he moved his hands down her neck and out to her shoulders where he started kneading her deltoids. In that position, he was able to lean down, bringing his nose and mouth close to her hair. Just the smell of her excited him more. He inhaled deeply then moved his mouth down to the side of her neck just behind and below her ear.
Now Sally began to feel something more than just lightheaded bliss. Mitch’s lips were soft, almost femininely so against her skin but his stubble and musky scent was anything but. She shut her eyes, her heartbeat quickening as his touch sent tingles through her. He moved his hands down from her shoulders to cup her breasts. Nuzzling the nape of her neck, he gently squeezed her breasts, relishing their firmness. Her nipples hardened as he traced around her areolae with practised skill.
Sally, more and more turned on by this, couldn’t take it for much longer. She tightened a little, giving Mitch the hint to back up and let her off the the stool.
‘Not fair.’ She nodded at his clothes even as she began wriggling out of her jeans. Seconds later, Mitch was naked too. She melted into him, curling her arms up around his neck and tousling his hair, kissing his neck and chin. Mitch wrapped both arms around her, one down around the small of her back, the other up into her blonde mane.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he breathed, a cheeky gleam in those gorgeous brown eyes. ‘Turn around.’
Sally let him go and obeyed, a little mystified. How’s he gonna get into me in this position? He’s too tall and I’m too short…
Mitch dragged two of the heavy-bottomed stools to either side of her.
‘Put one foot here, and the other one here.’
Sally grinned and obeyed. Oh, good idea… These things better not tip over!
With her legs now spread wide so her feet were almost a metre apart on the foot-rails of the bar stools, her tight round butt was level with his groin. She leaned forward and spread her hands on my bench-top, arching her back.
Mitch moved in close behind her, his cock, hard and pulsing with his heartbeat, rubbing eagerly beneath her cleft. He brought one hand down to her already moist pussy, his expert fingers gently probing and exciting her even more. With the palm of his hand pressing against her clitoris, he pushed silky-smooth head of his cock against her lips and rocked back and forth ever so gently.
‘Oh, stop teasing!’ Sally moaned, arching her back further, and leaning forward so her nipples were just touching the cold granite. The chill of the smooth stone sent little tingles through her, adding to urgency she was feeling in her loins.
Mitch didn’t wait any longer. He pulled back slightly and bent at the knees a little to angle himself right then pushed into her. Angled as they were, he didn’t dare thrust so hard and deep into her as he could in bed, but he began to make up for it in speed. He could feel the pressure of his orgasm building within him, almost aching in its urgency.
Gotta make sure she comes too, he thought desperately. He brought his hand down again to gently press and roll her clitoris as he drove himself as deep as he dared within her.
Even so, he wasn’t able to keep from coming much longer. He sped up faster, breathing hard now and sweating. His body was shaking, quivering like the flanks of a nervous horse.
He clenched his jaw and grunted. ‘Ngghh!’ He jerked to a stop, his heart pounding. His orgasm was so strong and hot that he felt as though his very balls were being sucked up and shot out into her as he filled her.
Sally wasn’t far behind him. ‘Fuck,’ she gasped. ‘Stay… Stay there!’
Mitch was only too grateful to do so and kept massaging her little button, ever so slightly increasing his speed and pressure.
When Sally felt her own orgasm unleashing waves of pent-up pressure, she clenched and unclenched her muscles as hard as she could, gently massaging his member, milking every last drop from him until he was quite limp.
Now that was a trick I really wished I’d known about when I’d been alive. Problem was, back then I’d have blushed like a schoolgirl if anyone had even mentioned pelvic floor exercises to me.
Panting still, Mitch helped Sally down off the stools.
‘Now that’s how we should start the morning,’ he said, grinning.
Sally smiled and kissed him. ‘Next time though, let me keep my shoes on. Those rails hurt my feet.’
At least this time, I noticed Kelly approaching before she actually got to the front door. She’d have been at the porch in about twenty seconds and those two were still naked. Just as I was beginning
to panic, Sally spied her out of the corner of her eye.
‘It’s Kells!’ she hissed. ‘You stall her. I gotta shower!’ She bolted out of me for the bedroom, leaving Mitch to stumble into his pants and shirt in a mad rush.
Once he was covered, he called out through my window to her.
‘Come on in and make yourself at home, Kells. We slept in. I’ll be back down in a minute.’ Then he followed Sally out to their bedroom.
I thought Kelly would do as he’d suggested, but she waited on the porch, shyly and subdued. That alone worried me. Normally she was so happy to be there that she’d smile and even hum to herself. Now, he face was pale and her pretty-though-small eyes were red.
Mitch and Sally came back in five minutes later. Mitch ushered her into me for coffee. Shit, she seems tired. Wonder if she’s alright?
Sally thought the same thing. ‘You okay kiddo? You look worn out already. C’mon in and have a coffee before we start.’
The moment she was inside me and I knew exactly what was wrong. The letter she remembered was perhaps the most vivid memory she’d ever had, and it was horrid. Unlike the monstrous acts of her father which she’d been able to block out thanks to years of practice, this vile note she had no way to deal with. Abruptly, she began to cry.